


Complacence

by enmity



Category: Tales of Legendia, Tales of Series
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: They all had their bad habits, after all, but that was precisely the kind of thinking that led to complacence.





	Complacence

**Author's Note:**

> my brain be like walfen...vaguely miserable...bread...

She caught him just as she stepped outside the dining hall, where her breath had hitched as she’d met the morning air on her first day, her wounds redressed and her chest thrumming with nervous anticipation rather than the silent terror she’d come to expect from her days of captivity. Crisp and cool, and the scent of the sea wasn’t anything special, but it had made Fenimore falter, the realization that this place was exactly as safe as its smells and sound and people would purport it to be.

The village was an enclave, tucked in its own tiny corner of the world, but after the war had ended and she’d started waffling around the idea of returning to her homeland, she’d found that even in the absence of danger the mind had a predisposition to quiver. As her fist clenched around the twisted ends of the cheesecloth, she wondered how much of it was self-preservation and how much was foolishness. They all had their bad habits, after all, but that was precisely the kind of thinking that led to complacence.

“Walter!” she called out, having forgotten that the older boy was well-honed when it came to ignoring others. The ensuing spasm of irritation almost led her to turn around, but then he stopped, and tilted his head to acknowledge her in the same manner he would to anyone he didn’t need to impress – that was, not very much at all. How typical. Her mouth thinned into a line. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“That doesn’t concern you,” came his brisk reply.

“Shirley was asking for you,” Fenimore said evenly, and kept her face straight through his obvious bristling. “So I thought I’d be a good friend and assuage her worries. It’s a good thing this village is so small.” She unwrapped the cloth to reveal its measly contents. Bread with jam and nuts, fresh but halfway crumbling all the same. “I see you're as surly as ever. She wasn’t the one who asked to give you this, though.”

Upon examination he remarked, “This is the kind of food that should be reserved for civilians.”

“It is; it’s mine. Half of mine, anyway. And you speak like we’re still at war and have to ration our food.” She rolled her eyes in a way that was neither fond nor patient. “It’s a free meal. Just take it.”

Walter’s frown deepened until she could see the shadow of a grimace. “I don’t remember you owing me anything.”

“I couldn't finish it, that's all. I’m sorry to tell you this, but not all of us adhere to such stringent rules of give-and-take.” Her words edged into a sigh. Sometimes people did things because it was nice. Like give seashells to strangers or pretend there was use for someone who could neither respond to the automata nor fight in her own right. “Back home, I always had to share with my sister. There was never much to go around. I can’t let her half go to waste, you see.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t want that,” he said, face as skeptical as ever. But he took it in the end.

“The war’s over, Walter,” Fenimore admonished. “It’s alright to take it easy sometimes, you know. I swear, I always run into people who take themselves too seriously…”

He met her accusation with a displeased grunt and murmured something about minding her own business. She bit back a snappish response despite herself and shrugged it off as par for the course.

It was true that some things were easier said than done. His eyes still looked upon the world with slanted distrust in the same way her shoulders were still braced, even now – waiting for an invisible something to come sweep down and take her scavenged peace like it had taken her parents and carried her to a cage an ocean’s worth of distance away from home. It was easier said than done when once you’d felt as though the world existed to be your enemy. 

Perhaps that was why she’d called out to him in the first place. Perhaps her friend’s concern had only been half the story.

And so what? Turning her back on him, away from the sun and her swallowed thoughts, she wondered how long it would take before either of them would change. She walked her way back and did not miss the weight of excess in her hand.


End file.
